


Snowflake

by Moonrose91



Series: Three Hundred Years of Being Forgotten (Mostly) [22]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was like a jolt of energy that set his nerve endings on fire.</p><p>Something had changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflake

Jack kept his eyes closed to the bright light of the full moon as he thought on the changes the world was undergoing.

Across the stretch of settled land, there were whispers of a confrontation, of a war.

A new book had been published just a few days back, three if Jack's calculations were correct.  _Poor Richard's Almanack_ , that the writer hoped to publish yearly, in a 'serial', which both amused Jack and made him wonder how that would come to pass.

He tugged a bit on his collar, his hands shaking slightly as he did so, so that it was hiding him more, and he rested with his arm wrapped securely around his staff, or as securely as he could get his trembling limbs to grasp it.

He was twenty-one now.

He had been for six days.

He felt like he was dying, like everything was ending and beginning at once. He was always tired now, stretched too thin and sleeping for longer and longer stretches.

Sandman hated leaving him alone for any stretch of time, but there was a duty to fullfill and Jack had always smiled at him, no matter how exhausted him, and sent him on his way.

Pitch, in an odd turn of events, had actually shown up the day after Jack's birthday practically concerned.

Jack had teased him mercilessly for it from his position curled up in a snow bank. A snow bank Jack had fallen into shortly before Pitch just appeared and he couldn't seem to really get out of it. It had been one of the worst days Jack had experience and the North Wind now handled him with gentle reverence and care that Jack was sure was reserved only for him in his most dire of conditions.

He figured this was one of those dire conditions.

He coughed a bit, hiding his face into his shoulder, when he felt something akin to a lightning bolt racing up his spine.

He was suddenly filled with energy, too much energy, and he practically cracked the tree in half when he iced it over.

He jumped into the air, the North Wind carrying him in one place that was fluttering and unsteady, but doing it all the same.

Jack was panting, knowing that he should eat, that his powers would be better handled if he ate, but something was screaming at him to go, fly, rush, to  _here_.

He did not know where  _here_  was, but he knew it was important, knew that it was vital, and that he needed to go. He needed to race on the Winds and rush. He looked around, but the North Wind already understood.

With a howling gale, it tore off. They skimmed the ocean waters, frozen and icy cold. They rushed through clear spots and the sharp turns. They raced over the tops of a forest, deep and dark, and still they rushed on. They rushed until they came to a mountain. Well, hill might be more appropriate, which had a cave system that, in the spring, had some caves open to the sky, and in the winter, the ice grew over till they were made into solid caves, covering the precarious holes.

Jack landed in the snow.

The _fresh_ snow.

He felt his forehead scrunch up slightly and he knelt down, running his fingers through it. His frost rushed out, icing it over, but there was a different _feel_ to this snow, as if it was created by another entity.

He did not make this snow and it was not of Mother Nature's magic either, though she rarely touched into the Seasons duties, sometimes the form of clouds just happening to happen. There was a soft whisper, as if something had rushed across the snow and Jack looked up.

The feeling was gone and he slowly stood up, hand gripping the staff tightly. He turned in a slow circle, cautious.

There was another whisper like sound and he turned around, finding nothing, until he turned toward where one of the caves that Jack _knew_ was open to the air when he first came for winter's chill.

There, standing half in shadow, was a young female. Her age was odd to pinpoint (though Jack thought she might be his age, looks wise), and she was watching him with her arms curled close to her body and her bare, white as snow, hands grasping at the rock.

"Evening," he greeted and she jumped slightly, looking behind her so fast it caused white hair that was too long and likely to get tangled up in  _something_ soon, fly through the air before she looked back at him.

"You can see me?" she asked, surprised.

Jack swallowed a bit at that question and he nodded.

She stepped forward then, into the moonlight, catching like the snow around her. Everything about her, from her hair to the coat that practically blended into her skin, thus making her look more bell like, and made that whispering sound he heard earlier, reminded him of the snow that was all around. He smiled at her and she paused.

He immediately walked forward and stopped right in front of her, unsure of what to do now, when he remembered people introducing themselves. "My name's Jack Frost. What's yours?" he asked.

"Eirawen, the Snow Maiden," she answered.

Jack gave a tiny smile. "How long have you been here, Eye-rah-wen?" Jack asked, tripping a bit over the pronunciation, but getting it in the end.

Eirawen looked thoughtful and then answered, "A couple of hours. I just...woke up from the snow. It hurt, a bit. And then the Moon told me my name. Eirawen, the Snow Maiden. Makes sense, since I made it snow."

Jack looked up at the Moon and then back down at her, quickly connecting the dots.

Mother Nature promised and said she was looking. Sandman swore they were.

He was suddenly filled with energy, he no longer felt as if he was going to stretch too far and then shatter, like ice spread over too much water.

His aide had been born.

He reached out and, gently, touched her cheek, to make sure that this wasn’t just entirely in his mind.

There was a spark of blue light at his fingertips at the contact and he felt as if he was got another jolt of energy, but this one much subtler and she jumped a bit at the shock, before she suddenly latched onto his wrist, as if realizing, in the same moment, that this was not a dream, this was not a figment of their imagination.

This was _real_.

He remembered the hug, the first human contact he ever had, and carefully tugged Eirawen forward and folded her into a tight hug. "Welcome to the world Eirawen," he greeted and she tensed a bit before she curled into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head burrowing into his collar bone.

A bit painful, but something he could deal with.

And around them, the snow began to swirl, as if preparing for a storm.

**Author's Note:**

> *prepares to hide in bunker*
> 
> You know how the Pitch ones made me nervous?
> 
> This made me even _more_ nervous.


End file.
